


Vacation Days

by Stalene



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2d - Freeform, Drunk Murdoc Niccals, Murdoc Niccals - Freeform, Noodle - Freeform, Phase Four (Gorillaz), Russel, Sad, Spirit House, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stalene/pseuds/Stalene
Summary: Noodle has been preparing for this vacation for a long time, desperately trying to round up all three boys and get the stars aligned, but there was one thing she really neglected to think about. Murdoc, still trapped in his own mind, still trapped on plastic beach - with a worsening condition. He barely remembers who they are anymore. Will she be able to save this vacation, and save Murdoc? Or will everything go up in smoke like it always does around him?





	Vacation Days

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for   
> A.) A prompt for a club in the Gorillaz amino  
> B.) A event for Wattpad Amino
> 
> It's called hitting two birds with one stone >:)

Murdoc was used to the silence, the loud, unending silence that constantly rang in his ears. His room was dark, the windowpane covered with thick curtains. Only a few beams of light escaped through the withered fabric. Vomit covered the floor, causing a stench to permeate the air around him, he felt as if he was suffocating.The bassist swallowed, he couldn’t remember the last time he had anything to drink. Other than rum, that was. Empty bottles littered the floor, a minefield of broken glass the man had to navigate himself through. His vision was blurry, and he found it difficult to open his eyes all the way. He slowly peeled himself from the chair he’d been sitting at for the last few days, a new issues taking hold of his mind. He was so… So hungry. Murdocs stomach twisted with desperate hunger, growling loud enough for him to hear out loud. The hunger made him feel more sick, any semblance of a meal he may or may not had recently was most likely soaking into the dirty rug.  
Where was he? How could he have forgotten such a simple thing like his own whereabouts, how long has he been sitting here in unfamiliar surroundings. His stomach twisted with more than just hunger - a newfound anxiety taking hold. He needed… his friends, but wait - what were their names? Pasta? 4C? Nono, there wasn’t anyway that was it. Brussel? That was gibberish! Insane, no one in their right mind would name their child Brussel.   
Oh how ill Murdoc felt, his stomach twisting and turning. Was he going to vomit again? He should probably get up, shouldn't he. Or else risk getting covered in more of his own insides. It was his vomit right? It would be silly to think it was anyone else's. He slowly got to his feet, a quiet whimper escaping his throat as he felt his skin peel from the chair. He felt gross, sticky, wanting nothing but to feel water wash away all the grime and worry that stuck to his skin. His tongue ran over his teeth - feeling the unsatisfyingly bumpy surface of plaque coating what should be smooth. When did this happen, when did it all start? Why did he let himself go like this, slowly dying alone in his own room - when he knew help was just outside the door. He just needed to get to it, but it was so difficult to walk, to move towards the exit of his own eternal hell.   
That’s just it, perhaps the reason he hadn’t any idea where he was - was simply because he was dead. In hell. He had lost his soul, after years and years of running and fighting to preserve it. That was who he was, yes? A lost soul, trapped in a rank smelling cage. So hauntingly familiar to the world he once knew. This was his punishment, for all the terrible things he had done; not only to other people… But to himself. He just needed to ask for help, that’s all he had to of done, and maybe he could have gotten better. He could have made the people around him happy again, a real wholesome family. Maybe he wouldn’t have needed alcohol and sex to make himself feel alive, needed, happy.   
He traded it all away, all away for fame. For a band he ended up tormenting and almost destroying single handedly. This was his own, special little spec of hell. He’d eventually be forgotten, left to drift into an endless sea of forgotten memories. Forgotten like the names of the friends he secretly held so dear. Forgotten like his own location. Forgotten like himself.

“Murdoc!” A familiar voice called out, causing the man's heart to wrench, “Murdoc are you packed yet, we’re going to miss our flight!!” The feminine voice called out once more, slowly pushing open the door. “Murdoc- oh god, what is that smell? Did something die in here??” Noodle quickly slapped her left hand over her nose and mouth, right hand flicking on the lightswitch to reveal the mess, “Oh my god…”   
Noodles eyes fell upon the mess, upon the drunken bassist covered in his own vomit - standing idly in the middle of it all. He was practically surrounded by a mass of broken glass, no shoes to protect his bare feet. Her heart sank, a tiny piece of her blaming herself for the wreck she found the man in. Her mind had been so preoccupied with vacation plans, she didn’t bother stopping to make sure he was leaving his room to eat dinner. He’d been stuck up here in his own head for how many days? Everyone knew how dangerous that was, especially after the Plastic Beach fiasco. The last thing he needed was more isolation. She cleared her throat, making her voice soft and sweet.  
“Stay there Murdoc, I’m going to get you some shoes so that you can walk across. Y-You have to be careful because of the glass.” She stepped into the room, quickly stooping down to swipe up his favorite boots. The man stared at her blankly, as if desperately trying to remember her name, Noodle smiled sadly. She knew that expression all too well, “You know who I am, right Murdoc?” The woman softly hummed, “You remember me… Right? What’s my name?”  
“It’s… It’s Pasta… Pasta righ’? Tha’ sounds righ’ I think…” His brow furrowed, and Noodle felt a tiny bit of her heart break.  
“No… It’s not, but very very close Mudzy! That’s something you called me when I was little, I was your little pasta. Try again, what’s another word for pasta?” She paused, trying to make it easier without directly telling him, “Uhm, what would you call a singular piece of pasta? Aaaaaa???” She stretched out the final word, hoping he’d end up with the correct answer.  
“Noodle?” Murdoc tilted his head to the side slightly. Noodle beamed at him, he must have gotten her name right. She set the boots down, making sure that the right boot was in front of the right foot.   
“There you go Murdoc, you remembered! We’re in a band, all four of us. I play the guitar, Russel plays the drums.” That was it, Russel…. Not Brussel. It brought Murdoc comfort knowing someone wouldn’t really name their child that. “Step into your shoes, honey.” Noodle directed him, helping guide his feet. The man’s coordination was way off, but Noodle remained patient. “Then we have Stuart, you like to call him 2D.” Ah, 2D! Not 4C… Things were slowly starting to piece together. Those were his friends, they were still here… His friends were. “2D has a really important part in the band, do you remember what 2D does?”  
“He sings… He has a nice voice doesn’t he? He sounds like an angel, have I told ‘im tha’ before, love?” Murdoc stepped into his shoes, being lead out into the hallway.  
“Mmm, no. You haven’t, you’ve been really mean to Stu lately, but I’m sure it would mean the world to him if you did.”  
“I have?...” Murdoc blinked, his face fell, “I have… haven’t I?” Noodle sighed at his words, relieved she at least got him out of his room safely. But she knew she couldn’t give in, or reassure him. It would be like taking pity on a puppy who peed on the carpet. He needed to know the truth, strong discipline. Even if it hurt his already damaged feelings.  
“You really have Murdoc. You broke him as much as you broke yourself..” She said softly, turning a corner to lead him to the bathroom. Murdoc went silent, “What I want you to do is take a shower, I’ll be back with a fresh change of clothes. I’ll pack your things for you, okay Murdoc? You’re listening right?”  
Murdoc nodded, Noodle sighed at his silence, “Just because you did something bad, doesn’t mean you can’t fix it. We’re going on a nice vacation, start slow. Tell him how pretty his voice is, how much he means to you. He might not warm up to you immediately, but I know that it’ll mean something to him. He’s been waiting so many years just for a bit of praise, Murdoc. Grant him that little bit, okay? I don’t want you drinking either, not while we’re on vacation.”  
“Bu-” Noodle immediately cut him off, getting a familiar fire in her eyes. Telling him he would not win this fight.  
“No buts. I’ve been trying to set up this vacation for a very, very long time Murdoc. I will NOT tolerate your bad behavior ruining it, you understand me? You are going to stay completely sober for one trip, and if I see you even look at a bottle of booze - you are going to be in very big trouble. Just look at yourself, covered in vomit and piss. Your room is disgusting, and I already know I’m going to have to clean it for you. You can do me this ONE favor, I know you can. I know you will, got it?”  
“... Got it…” He sighed, leaning against the doorframe. Noodle softened a bit - he had at least tried to agree. It wasn’t often she actually saw effort from the man.   
“It means a lot to me, Murdoc. It means a lot to your little pasta. You’ve put everyone through a lot of shit already, prove to us you can get better. We want to help you.” She stepped back, “Now hurry up and shower, we don’t want to miss our flight.”


End file.
